A Home Trapped In Death
by DrummerDancer
Summary: Trapped in twentieth-century Berlin, Edward has aligned himself with a team of researchers to find a way to reach the other side of the gate. But how far is he willing to go in the name of science and seeing his brother? And what does Sloth have to do with any of it?


Title: A Home Trapped In Death  
Author: drummerdancer  
Verse: First Anime  
Characters/Pairings: Edward, Sloth  
Word Count: 1963  
Prompt 242: Juicy  
Rating: T  
Summary: Trapped in twentieth-century Berlin, Edward has aligned himself with a team of researchers to find a way to reach the other side of the gate. But how far is he willing to go in the name of science and seeing his brother? And what does Sloth have to do with any of it?

* * *

The dark passageway gave neither the satisfaction of being definitely dangerous nor any reassurance that it welcomed his presence. As Edward advanced, blade already transmuted, he couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down his spine at the looming dark. He felt like he'd been down there for _hours,_ just searching and searching and never finding the light that would lead him out of this place.

_Or into the monster__'__s lair_, he mused. He bit into the side of his bottom lip, both out of habit and to reassure himself that he was still there. It was hard to tell since everything was so dark.

A noise up ahead halted his progress; his feet stopped, blood turning to ice in anticipation.

The noise - it sounded wet, like water would traveling down a pipe - began to grow in volume, implying the person was getting closer. No; monster, Edward reminded himself. This _thing _was not a person, not now, not ever. It was an abomination, a sin against nature. _A monster_.

It was drawing closer. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on edge. Goosebumps were pressing against his clothes. A bead of sweat squeezed out between his brows, trailing down his nose and ending at his chin, leaving a translucent stain in its wake. Edward ignored it, his whole body tense like a wire ready to snap. A voice in the back of his head was telling him to run, to get out of there, to stop being a moron and tuck tail while he still had a chance.

He probably should have; this had bad vibes written all over it.

But just as soon as he entertained the idea, the window of opportunity closed. The sloshing was close—_way too close__—_and it was descending upon him from all sides. Panic blinded him for a second; fuck, he couldn't see anything!

He yelled out in fright and randomly tried to strike. But the monster was quick and elusive; none of his strikes connected, his vision impaired further when he felt a cold hand on his eyes.

"There, there, Edward..." it purred, sending another round of cold chills through his body, "you wouldn't try to strike your own mother, would you?"

"You're not our mother!" He swiped at his eyes; the hand quickly disintegrated into liquid, leaving a watery, sticky residue on his face. He spat it out; whatever that stuff was, he did _not_ want it on him.

"Oh, Edward...why do you say such cruel things to your mother?" The voice was saddened in a way that could only be described as sarcastic; Edward knew mocking when he heard it. He lunged at the sound, angered further and eager to destroy. But he missed again, connecting with concrete wall instead.

He grimaced, regret coming full force upon him. He should have never come down here alone. Even if they were one-on-one, this would never have been a fair fight. How could he fight a homunculus with a body like water and a face like his mother's? Not to mention the whole unlimited lives phenomena...

A slimy hand grabbed his shoulder. Ed jumped left, rolling on cold ground and staggering to his feet a couple of meters away. His breathing was labored, too loud in the dark. Even if the monster hadn't been able to see, the sound of his heart pounding in his chest was loud enough for even a deaf person to hear him.

"My, my, Edward...sounds like you're getting tired. Why don't you just lie down, let your mother take care of you—"

"Fuck you!" he spat, glaring at the voice in the dark. "You're not her; you never were!"

A loud _smack_ echoed off the walls as a stinging pain stung his cheek. He stumbled, surprise overtaking his sense of balance. The world around him shifted, though his eyes didn't register any of it in the blackness.

"Such a naughty boy...didn't your mother ever teach you any manners?"

Edward growled in response; it was one thing to try to imitate his mother, but altogether a different matter to insult her. And somehow, this monster did both with arrogance enough to assume that it had the _right _to, like its existence permitted any offense without consequence. But Edward wouldn't allow it. Over his dead body.

"You take that back, you bitch!" he yelled, scrambling both internally and externally for ideas. There was nothing but concrete around; what could he make, what could he do...?

Horrible realization dawned on him as he rolled away from what sounded like a punch aimed at his head. No matter what he made, _she_ would be able to pass through it. Concrete was made with water; any structure he made to block her would be in vain.

His blade was designed for enemies made of carbon; he'd been expecting Envy when he came down here in search of Al. But Sloth wasn't made of carbon—just hydrogen and oxygen. What could he do to stop her?

His thoughts ended abruptly as, all at once, watery tentacles seized all four of his limbs in one go. He struggled against them. _No! It can__'__t end like this!_

"You've been a very bad boy, Edward," she drawled, taking slow artificial footsteps in his direction for the sole purpose of watching him squirm. He didn't; he wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

"Looks like it's time for some punishment."

Searing pain ripped through his side as the wet, juicy sound of something sharp cut him. He screamed, struggling with new found desperation to get free. The binds held him steady, showing no signs of letting him loose. This was bad—shit, this was _bad_. He needed to get away _now_.

Blood was leaking out his side; his consciousness was starting to fade. His struggle decreased, his energy all but gone. Sloth was grinning—_laughing__—_as his energy left him. Her smile was the same structurally as his mother's, but differed emotionally altogether. His mother's expressions were never malicious, yet this thing had evil practically dripping from its lips. That was the last thing he remembered; the smiles that were so familiar, yet so different.

He was falling, falling into nothingness.

Falling into a world that didn't exist.

Falling, and never waking up again.

Until somebody began to viciously shake him awake.

"Mr. Elric! Mr. Elric!" someone called, bringing him back into consciousness.

He opened his eyes.

He was back in the laboratory in Berlin. The room was dark save for the ominous glow of green vials lighting the tables full of notes and beakers. His own body, strapped and bound to a table angled toward the floor, was tight and knotted, like he had been flexing for hours and hours without break.

Looking around, the faces of the other scientists searched his eagerly, their throats thirsty for news on his experience. He frowned; today's experiment had been something different.

"'ow long w's I under for?" he asked dryly, looking expectantly at the leader of the group. Dr. Dockhurst (or, as Ed liked to call him, Dr. D) looked down at his stopwatch.

"Forty-seven seconds."

"What did you see, Edward?" asked another doctor whose name, for the life of him, he couldn't remember at the moment. His throat was parched, like he'd been running in the desert for hours.

"'n a minute; 'm thirsty. Unstrap me, Dr. D."

The doctor obliged. The leather straps, bound around his ankles, wrists, and torso, were undone and removed within a few minutes. Edward stepped down from the platform, grabbing his flesh wrist in a light hold. The skin was raw; he must have been thrashing around like crazy.

"Here you go." Another assistant, whose name started with a W if he was correct, handed him a clear glass of water. Ed took it and chugged it down in haste. Gate, could water be described as _delicious? _He didn't think so, yet there was no disputing the fact that the water tasted wonderful in his dry mouth.

_Water_. He paused.

He'd seen Sloth that time.

Ed finished off the bottle and dropped it on the floor, wiping his hand across his lips. Out of all the times he'd been under, never had he seen one of the homunculi. And Sloth, of all people? That had to be a sign, he was sure of it.

"Guys," he started, "I think we're getting closer. I saw one of the things that brought me here this time."

"Really?" piped in one of the newest team members. He clapped his hands together underneath his chin and gazed at Edward with unrestrained excitement. Ed swallowed; sometimes, this guy's similarities with Kain Fuery were uncanny. But, yes, he was most certain they were getting closer to their goal.

They were going to cross the gate. And soon, if Ed's recent trip was any indication.

"Very good, Edward. This new development should please the board greatly." Dr. D was writing on his clipboard. "Anything else?"

"Just that it was really dark. And..." Ed hesitated, the scar on his chest burning as he clutched it, "And I...I died this time."

Dr. D paused in his writing. Adjusting his wired frames, he stared hard at Edward. "Died how? As in, the vision faded out before we woke you or..."

"No; the homunculus killed me. I couldn't do alchemy, and she stabbed my side."

"Oh." Dr. D looked at his other colleagues with a raised eyebrow, then shrugged his shoulders when they all returned blank looks. "Was it the one who killed you in your world?"

"No. That was Envy."

"Oh. I see." Dr. D mumbled a few words under his breath before he resumed his writing. "Nothing to worry about, I suppose. Probably just part of the experience."

"Right..." Edward trailed off, fidgeting lightly with his t-shirt. The other scientists were talking enthusiastically with one another, acting like the incident was a really good step forward. And it _was_, Edward reminded himself. This had been the first time that he had ever seen somebody from Amestris while he was under.

Well, _something_, that is.

But still. Wasn't this a step in the right direction? Edward shuddered; the scar in the middle of his chest was burning, as was a phantom pain in his side where Sloth had cut him. He fingered his skin, making sure the wound hadn't actually occurred. The juicy stab in his dream had felt unimaginably real, like she had really been there, drawing the life out of him like a reaper.

_But she wasn__'__t_, Edward scolded. She was _dead_, gone for good. He had seen her demise, witnessed it first hand, dealt the killing blow himself. So why was this new development bothering him so much? Why couldn't he just let go of the vision and appreciate the success like he had all the others? Why was this illusion tearing at his mind, screaming at him to open his eyes and see the bigger problem?

That he had actually seen his mother's double for the first time earlier in the day, walking down the street in normal attire.

That when he had passed her and looked back for a split-second in unrestrained shock, she had smiled at him with such familiarity, he thought his heart would shatter.

And that, when she had turned away from him, her brown eyes shined an alien violet that resembled what he knew to be impossible.

And, worst of all, that she had disappeared amongst the crowd, blending in so that Edward could neither scream or stop her from slipping from his grasp like water, eluding him again metaphorically the same way she did physically years ago.

No; there was seriously something messed up here.


End file.
